"It turns out, as obviousness would have it, that our brains (especially those of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby in this case) have been teaching us neurology through comic books and the movies that have come from them."
Full article linked to from my profile, click "abraham" below, awesome!!
So long had the ground been frozen, pretty yet barren beneath the ice, that we had quite given up on the spring. March became April. April almost became May when the first of many green wands appeared. There they were, a bouquet of smiles, bravely heading up toward the sun.
As living shadows the bats swooped, cooly bathed within guardian rock. They chirped and played, wings stretched wide, these masters of the night. Their family, thousands strong, heeded twilight’s call. As armour-less knights, the cold currents they rode as eagles of the night.
"For writers in the next half century and beyond, a comprehension of how creative writing, neurology, biology and our environment interact will be essential for a successful career."
- a link to the full article is in my bio and on the Descriptionari "About" page.
- you can email me using either AngelaCarolineAbraham@gmail.com or AngelaDescriptionari@outlook.com for a quote on tutoring and/or editing services.
Much love!!!
Angela Abraham (Daisy)
"Adjective and noun associations are worthy of our consideration because by careful linkage of words such as 'black' with strong emotionally positive words (such as in 'black heavens' and 'noble black night') we can start to program subconscious bias from the brain by creating a background neurochemistry that is more positive. This keeps the prefrontal cortex more fully operational and encourages more empathy in both thoughts and behaviours. Thus society develops better through their own choices and evolves. This is part of social evolution and this kind of awareness in writers is essential."
A water dragon is born when cold sea currents meet a tropical flow; an ancient magic is stirred by the collision. From nowhere, they say, a new light is born. Some say it is the very light of the stars brought to the newborn dragonlet through magic. None can say for sure. All we know is what is told in the myths, written in squid ink on parchment scrolls, this creature does not come from an egg and arrives fully formed. One moment there is only the brine and then there is this king of the deep.
How drab it was to need so many bodyguards. Yet feet away there were actual peasants breathing the same air, feeling the same daylight. Edgar paused. His guards paused. A smile cracked into his face as he imagined his boot penetrating a skull. How little brains there must be in the heads of these wretched poor. Surely it would be a kindness to snuff them out. He imagined a great nutcracker, the kind he used at Christmas time, perhaps mechanised. To stamp them out of existence, whilst fun, would mess up his cobblers work. ‘What invention,’ he mused, smiling once more, ‘an A.I. powered Jack the Ripper to clean up my streets, to save my London, to restore this calm and gentle land to her glory days.’
"When we make daily choices that are emotionally indifferent, the sort that the money-nexus makes faux-virtues of, we build our capacity for emotional indifference at the direct expense of our capacity for empathy, and thus the conflict between money and love is laid bare."
“Rock is cleaved not by storms thrash, yet by aeon’s drip. On and on, on and on, on and on. When time is measured this way, by the micro-erosions of water’s strike, it is the slowest of blades. That is the power of water, for good and for bad. So take care, lovely Cleo, that what brings you to sculptured form is born of sunlit ponds alone.”
In those bonny spring days, that lengthened and sang of summer’s promise, an egg sat snug in a nest. Bathed in the chirps of newborn siblings, it seemed quite content to wait. The world beyond, from dragonflies to sweet earthworms, were undreamable to its inner eye. The greenness of leaves, the feeling of breeze-massaged feathers, were yet to be its joys. Yet in that gentle heat the little bird in a lullaby-slumber stirred.